Hypothermia
by elbcw
Summary: Athos gets himself in trouble, the others rush to help. Of course, it's never that easy...
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: This is an expansion of two of my Whumptober one-shots. The two were linked together - 'Hypothermia' and 'Drowning'. They are all in it, Athos and d'Artagnan get the brunt of the whumpage. I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter One

Stumbling backwards had not been the plan, Athos inexplicably thought as he fell. Stumbling backwards into a cold river was very much not part of the plan. And yet that was exactly what he had done.

A scream of his name from one of his brothers as he fell the last thing he knew before he hit the water. Disorientated, he spent those first few seconds desperately trying not to gasp as the cold water soaked him. He could not gasp. If he gasped, he would die. He would drown.

Athos created a mantra; 'do not breath'. He was underwater, he had to break the surface, then he could gasp in shock, but not before. The breath, when he allowed it, was deep. The water reclaimed him for a few more seconds before he could keep his head up.

The river was wide, and deep, and fast flowing. Somehow, he managed to miss the rocks, the water swirling him passed, out of reach. He might have hit one and been badly injured or he might have hit one and been able to grab onto it, stopping his unwelcome journey.

There was no chance of swimming. His clothes were too restrictive. If he could have done, he would have shed his weapons belt to prevent it from dragging him down again.

Buffeted around he tried to look for his brothers. The fight had been all but over, surely one or more of them would be chasing after him. Aramis knew the area, he would know of places where he could be pulled out.

Athos chuckled, actually chuckled, he knew, that he would be saved, there was no chance they would let him die. Not like this. He was destined to die on the battlefield as any good soldier should.

If not the battlefield, he would die old and grey. He would not die after a group of bandits had decided that Musketeers were worth robbing.

It was cold as he was twisted around on the currents. His fingers were already stiff, he could not open and close his hands. Odd that he should worry about such things when his whole life was in danger.

There was no sign of the others. His brothers had not been able to keep up with him. Was there to be no rescue?

His hurtled movement through the water slowed slightly. Did his foot drag on the bottom of the river? Again, his foot hit the bottom, he tried to dig his heels in but could not; the water still too fast. But the river bed seemed to be coming up to meet him. The river was getting shallower.

He managed to twist over, he had not really thought about the position he was in, he had been floating along on his back. Now that he had turned over, he realised the river was not quite the torrent it had been.

But he could do nothing to help himself. Turning had worn him out, he was too cold, he could not even attempt to swim. In the now shallow water, he could probably stand. Probably. But he would not find out, he was too weak. He would continue to float along, unable to stop himself. He would drown. He was going to die, not on the battlefield or old and grey. He was going to die, cold and exhausted after a pointless affray with a group of bandits.

Athos sent up a silent apology to his brothers for failing to keep himself alive for them.

MMMM

Seeing Athos stumble and fall from the bridge spurred d'Artagnan on. He knew his brother would not have been hurt in the fall, but the river was fast flowing and deep, Athos would not easily be able to get himself out.

The man in front of him faltered, distracted by Aramis' cry as Athos had fallen. D'Artagnan took advantage of the distraction to decisively thrust his sword into the man's gut. With no further thought for the man, d'Artagnan pulled his gun from his belt. The bandit responsible for Athos' fall was stood at the edge of the bridge looking in the direction of the fallen Musketeer. The shabby man had been lucky to manipulate the swordsman to the side of the bridge and over the edge.

The look on Athos' face as he had fallen told d'Artagnan that he was just as shocked at the luck the man had enjoyed.

The man did not get to enjoy his luck for long. D'Artagnan fired his gun, hitting the man in the back. The scruffy man collapsed to the floor.

D'Artagnan rushed forward to look at the river. Athos had only fallen a few seconds before but was already being washed away. The Musketeer was trying to reach the bank but stood no chance. On a warmer day, and without his heavy weapons and doublet, Athos might have made it to the bank, but it was clear to d'Artagnan that he would exhaust himself quickly.

Glancing around he saw that Porthos was rushing over. Aramis had taken a few steps after two of the bandits who were making a hasty retreat.

'Where is he?' said Porthos, who was still breathing hard after the fight.

'There,' replied d'Artagnan as he pointed forward.

Aramis rushed passed them both, grabbing Porthos by the sleeve as he went.

'Further down, it gets shallow, we need to get ahead of him…'

The two static Musketeers glanced at each other before taking after Aramis who had jumped off the bridge and was already running along the side of the river.

They had to pick their way along the river bank avoiding large rocks and scrambling up the bank on occasion where the river had pushed its way outwards slightly. Porthos was soon ahead of d'Artagnan and Aramis. D'Artagnan watched him looking to the river frequently, trying to spot their fallen brother. They had spotted Athos a couple of times and had called out to him but were not convinced he had heard them.

Porthos had managed to get slightly ahead of Athos. D'Artagnan could see him checking along the bank of the river for somewhere to attempt a rescue.

'No. Porthos. Further on.'

Aramis' shout caused Porthos to glance back. He looked a little annoyed at being directed by Aramis but did continue to run along the bank. They had to accept that Aramis knew the area and they did not. They had to trust that Aramis knew where they could get Athos out of the fast-moving river.

The river meandered away from them. Porthos was about to follow its bank but Aramis shouted again.

'Straight on. Through those trees…'

Aramis paused to take a couple of breaths.

'We can...get ahead.'

Porthos quickly changed his direction and ran beside d'Artagnan with Aramis a few steps behind. D'Artagnan hated leaving the riverside. Not being able to get even a chance of spotting Athos was torturous.

MMMM

Porthos did not like the idea of leaving Athos. The detour led them several yards away from the river through a stand of trees. But he accepted that Aramis was correct, even if he did not want to leave the water's edge.

D'Artagnan was breathing hard as he ran beside him. He could hear Aramis just behind them. Porthos concentrated all his effort on running as fast as he could.

Watching Athos being swept away. Seeing his brother disappear from sight was horrific. One minute they had been soundly beating a group of bandits who thought it was a good idea to try robbing Musketeers, the next they were watching Athos fighting for survival.

When he had come within a few yards of the riverbank Porthos had been sure he could have grabbed Athos. But Aramis had dissuaded him. He hoped it was the correct choice.

As the trees began to thin out, he could see the river bending back towards them. Aramis had been right. There was now a good chance that they were ahead of Athos and in a good position to rescue him. Although Porthos wondered what state Athos would be in.

MMMM

As he ran, he managed to pick the least sensible option for scrambling back up the bank of the river and ended up behind both Porthos and d'Artagnan. Aramis had to watch his brothers as much as his own footing. He knew Porthos would want to try to grab Athos before the spot on the river that would be easiest for the rescue.

'No. Porthos. Further on,' he shouted.

Reluctantly Porthos did as he was told. They would have lost valuable seconds if Porthos and d'Artagnan had stopped. The water was too fast flowing where they were. The area Aramis had in mind widened out causing the river to become shallower and slower moving. And Aramis knew they could take a shortcut as the river wound around the landscape. They could get ahead of Athos and be ready when he was swept toward them.

Again, Porthos was going to follow the river and not the route he needed them to take. Cursing himself for ending up at the back of the group Aramis managed to shout out again.

'Straight on. Through those trees…' the fatigue forced him to take a breath before continuing. 'We can...get ahead.'

Porthos and d'Artagnan were only a few yards ahead of him but were so focused on their task that neither man noticed when Aramis tripped over an exposed tree route. He could not prevent the fall, landing hard over another root. The air knocked out of him all Aramis could do for a few seconds was screw his eyes shut and try to take a breath.

He was glad they had not noticed, it meant they would concentrate on Athos. They could not afford to lose any time getting ahead of their brother.

Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees Aramis managed to open his eyes and with blurry vision watch as the two Musketeers disappeared from view. They were heading in the right direction. The shallow section of the river was just beyond the tree line, they would not be able to miss it.

After another few seconds, Aramis managed to push himself up to stand, putting out a hand to steady himself against the offending tree. He pressed his other hand against his chest, relieved to not feel any of the tell-tale pain of a cracked or broken rib. He suspected he would suffer for the fall later on, but at that moment Athos was his main concern. He could enjoy the pain of the bruising after they had rescued Athos and dealt with any injuries he had.

Managing to take a full breath without too much difficulty he started off after his brothers.

MMMM

Porthos broke free of the trees. The river was to his left, the shallow area opening up in front of him. He looked back along the river, relieved to see Athos floating towards them. He had managed to twist over to face forward and attempt to swim, the effort made useless due to the fatigue he was no doubt suffering.

The river had slowed as it spread out but was still deep. There was still a danger that their brother would just be taken straight past them. Athos could not help himself. Porthos did not think twice he ran along the bank a few yards before striking out a few yards into the water as Athos reached the same point.

'I got you,' panted Porthos as he dragged the exhausted man from the river.

Athos clearly could not respond, Porthos could tell he was still conscious but did not think he would remain so for long.

D'Artagnan skidded to a halt next to him, grabbed Athos' other arm and assisted pulling the Musketeer further up the bank away from the water.

'Lucky Aramis knew the river got shallower here,' said d'Artagnan. 'It would have been hard work trying to get him out of the deeper sections.'

'I could have got him out sooner,' replied Porthos.

'And get pulled in yourself,' said Aramis as he caught up with them.

'What kept you?' asked Porthos.

'Fell over...it happens...I'm not perfect, you can tease me later,' replied Aramis without looking up from Athos.

The bedraggled Musketeer lying between them had passed out. But he was shivering. Aramis started to undo Athos doublet. D'Artagnan helped the medic to push their brother up to sit as they divested him of the jacket. Porthos pulled off Athos' boots and leather breeches.

'We need to get him warm,' said Aramis, 'take off your doublet.'

Porthos and d'Artagnan did as they were told without question. Aramis was their field medic and knew what he was doing, although getting Athos warmed up was common sense. They lay the doublet's over the unconscious man.

'You two are going to have to get friendly with him,' said Aramis.

'What?' said both Porthos and d'Artagnan at the same time.

'Warm him up, with your own body heat...embrace him, keep him close to you.'

Porthos glanced at d'Artagnan before looking back at Athos.

'He won't like that.'

'He's unconscious,' pointed out Aramis.

'Why are we doing it?' asked d'Artagnan as he shuffled closer to Athos.

Porthos looked at Aramis but did not repeat the question.

'Do either of you know the area?'

Both men shook their heads.

'Well, I do. I know there is a village about two miles in that direction. The tavern keeper there owes me a favour. I'm going to get help.'

Aramis stood up and, after pulling his weapons belts off, started to undo his own doublet before shrugging out of it and handing it to d'Artagnan.

'Seriously, body warmth. It's the best we can do at the moment,' said Aramis when Porthos still did not get closer to Athos.

Porthos had no problem with helping his brother, Porthos was worried about what would happen if Athos woke up and found both himself and d'Artagnan at such close quarters. Athos was not a particularly tactile man at the best of times. But Aramis had a point. Of the three of them, only he knew the area.

'I'll be as quick as I can,' said Aramis, 'I'll try to be back before he wakes up and kills you both.'

Aramis took off in the direction he had said the village was in without waiting for his brothers to reply.

'I hate him sometimes,' said d'Artagnan.

'Somehow, we get stuck with the...awkward jobs all the time,' remarked Porthos as he finally moved to sit closer to Athos, slipping his arm around the man's shoulders.

'Hopefully,' continued Porthos, looking at their unconscious brother, 'he'll never need to know.'

MMMM

Aramis did not wait for a reply from his brothers, he scrambled up and ran. He had barely recovered his breath from the last run. But getting Athos warmed up was their priority. The man was unconscious with no hope of warmth other than what his brothers could offer him. They could not set a fire, the area had suffered several days of rains meaning everything was too damp and they had left their gear with the horses back at the bridge where the fight had happened.

The village was only two miles away. He could get there in a matter of minutes. Although, thought Aramis, it might take him a little longer, he was definitely running slower than he had been. His bruised chest and breathlessness slowing him down.

Aramis could only hope that he could get help at the village. It had been two years before that he had helped the tavern keeper out. Aramis had been staying at the inn when three travellers started to cause problems for the keeper's daughter. Joubert, the keeper, had tried to get the men to leave but been pushed back. Aramis, who had been sat in the corner of the tavern talking to Joubert's wife had interceded. The men had tried to fight back but were too drunk to deal with a Musketeer. Other than a black eye Aramis had been left unscathed by the fight. Joubert and his wife had been very thankful to Aramis, promising to let him stay for free if ever he was passing the village again.

The fatigue, brought on by the fight and almost constant activity since, was really starting to affect Aramis. He knew he was slowing down. But he had to get help. He also knew he had to still be able to communicate when he reached the village, if he ran himself to the point of collapse, he might not be able to tell Joubert where his brothers were. Aramis forced himself to slow down a little.

He was relieved when the trees thinned, and the village came into view.

MMMM

D'Artagnan adjusted the doublet over Athos, pulling it tighter around the shivering man. Porthos had finally settled next to them. It felt odd to be in such close proximity to each other. There had been times when they were forced to keep hold of one another when the other was injured, perhaps getting stitches, but to just sit there holding Athos seemed wrong.

Porthos had managed to twist himself a little to throw his leg over Athos'. The Musketeer had taken to his task with aplomb when he finally accepted that it was for the best. Aramis was correct, the only way they could start the process of warming their unconscious brother up was with the heat from their own bodies.

'I hope 'e don't wake up,' said Porthos again.

'It is odd,' agreed d'Artagnan as he slipped his arm back across Athos' chest.

The shivering had not stopped. Athos had stirred a couple of times but not fully come around. It was highly likely he would be combative when he did wake. He would probably be weak but still try to fight them.

'Have you had to do this before?' asked d'Artagnan glancing across at Porthos who was looking at the river.

'Not me, Aramis has. There was a young lad, he never got his commission, Claude, I think his name was. Aramis and he were caught by some thugs and beaten. It was December and very cold. Aramis was injured and couldn't get help so ended up just holding onto Claude for the rest of the night…'

Porthos trailed off.

'Did he survive?'

Porthos shook his head, 'when we found them, they were both very cold. Claude only lasted a few more hours. His injuries were not survivable. I think it was his warmth that kept Aramis alive instead.'

D'Artagnan could see the haunted look on Porthos' face from remembering the unpleasant incident.

'Is that why you were reluctant?'

Porthos nodded, 'sorry, it just reminded me of then.'

'I guess you have a lot of unpleasant memories…'

Porthos nodded, 'and I'm still worried what he's going to be like when he properly wakes up.'

D'Artagnan smiled, 'he can be explosive.'

Porthos chuckled, 'you're thinking about that time you woke him for his watch and he almost took your head off?'

D'Artagnan nodded, pleased to see his friend smiling again. The incident he was referring to had left Porthos and Aramis creased up laughing for quite a while. Athos, who had been deeply asleep had swung his dagger at d'Artagnan, narrowly missing slicing his throat. They had told him afterwards it was never a good idea to be close to the swordsman when waking him up.

Athos had apologised to d'Artagnan, before giving both of the others a dressing down for letting him sleep in.

The shivering man between them stirred again. He pushed slightly at d'Artagnan who glanced at Porthos who had a slightly concerned look in his eyes.

'It's been a pleasure knowing you,' he said with mock sincerity, as Athos opened his eyes.

Athos was unfocused and pushing weakly at them both.

MMMM


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The village was quiet as he hurtled towards the tavern. The small village boasted a decent sized tavern which served the road towards Paris. Aramis reached the door and pushed it open, stumbling to a stop.

His vision swam for a second as the heat of the room washed over him. He had to hold onto a chair to stop himself from collapsing to the floor. It startled him slightly when hands grabbed him around the shoulders.

'Soldier? What's happening? Are we at war?' said the man who had grabbed him with mirth in his voice.

Aramis swallowed, took a breath and managed to speak.

'Sorry monsieur, is...Joubert still here? I need...his help.'

'Aramis?'

He looked up as he heard Joubert's wife, Florence speak. She smiled briefly before taking in the state of the Musketeer. Aramis was still breathing hard and had not tried to pull free of the man who was holding onto him.

'My friend...cold, he...fell in the river.'

'What's happening?' came a voice from the back room of the tavern.

Aramis watched as Joubert, a man in his forties stepped into the room. The wiry man stopped suddenly when he saw Aramis.

'He needs help, his friend is hurt,' said Florence, turning to her husband.

The man holding Aramis stepped back as he managed to stand straighter. The strong looking older man, a farmer, Aramis guessed, glanced across to Joubert.

'Is this the soldier you go on about, the one that saved young Marie a couple of years ago?'

Joubert nodded. Aramis watched the exchange with confusion.

'I'm Morel, Corentin Morel, I'm Marie's father in law. And I for one am grateful for you seeing off those idiots.'

Aramis just stared at him.

'My cart's outside, come on young man, let's get your friend.'

Aramis allowed himself to be steered back out of the tavern. He heard Florence ordering her husband to get blankets and stoke the fire up as they went. Morel pushed Aramis up onto the seat at the front of the cart before hurrying around to the other side and grabbing the reins. The big horse started moving forward with barely any urging.

'Thank you, monsieur,' said Aramis when he had recovered enough to speak again.

He had been slightly bewildered by the turn of events.

'I left them by the river...the shallow part about two miles…'

'I know where you mean, you concentrate on getting your breath back...are you injured son?'

Aramis looked at him again, still trying to catch up with what had happened in the last five minutes.

'You're holding your side.'

He realised he had been sat with his arm wrapped around his chest.

'I fell, when we were chasing after Athos. It's just bruises.'

Morel nodded, before returning his concentration to the road and guiding the big bay horse towards the river.

Aramis did as he was told and steadied his breath. He was glad of the respite from the constant action. He wondered how his brothers were getting on with Athos.

MMMM

Athos could not work out how he was being restrained. He could not work out where he was. He could not work out who had him. He was cold. He needed to get away.

Pushing at whatever, no, whoever was holding him back did not seem to work. He had no strength.

What had happened?

Someone was talking. Talking to him. Using his name. Did the people with him know him?

He tried to think as he struggled weakly. What was the last thing he could remember?

Returning from the Spanish border. Porthos and Aramis were teasing d'Artagnan then trying to outdo each other with tales of battles. It had all been standard banter between them all.

Then there had been a swordfight. Then…

The river. He had fallen into the river. The man fighting him had managed to shove him forcefully back a few steps. He had stupidly lost track of his position and allowed himself to fall off the bridge.

There had been the tortuous journey along the river. He had convinced himself he was going to die.

He was not dead.

With a start, he realised he recognised the men he was fighting.

Porthos has trying to keep him still, pinning his arms to his sides. D'Artagnan was in front of him, warm hands on his face trying to get him to focus.

He looked around spotting Aramis rushing up from the side. Behind Aramis a stranger was approaching calmly, watching him.

Athos knew he should stop fighting his brothers.

MMMM

'Athos, it's us. Calm down.'

Athos pushed weakly, struggling against Porthos' hold, trying to wriggle free. D'Artagnan grabbed his head trying to get him to look at him.

'Athos. You're safe,' said d'Artagnan before glancing at Porthos with concern.

Porthos tightened his grip around the struggling man. He was worried Athos would hurt himself if he managed to get himself free. If the confused man managed to escape, he would not get far but could fall and injure himself.

'Please listen to us. Athos,' said d'Artagnan, raising his voice a little.

A noise to his left drew Porthos' attention. Aramis had returned, riding a cart driven by an older man. Aramis was off the cart before it had fully stopped and was rushing over. Aramis had his hands on Athos in seconds helping to keep the confused man still.

His eyelids fluttering, Athos gradually settled down. He managed to open his eyes fully and looked at the men holding him still. Porthos could tell Athos was still unfocused but was not as bad as when he had first regained consciousness.

'You with us now?' he asked, keeping his voice calm.

Athos managed a nod before trying to sit himself up straighter. The man who had brought Aramis back stepped closer pulling his own doublet off as he walked, the long heavy looking jacket looked warm. He held it out to Aramis who took it with a nod of thanks.

Porthos pushed Athos up straighter as Aramis swung the jacket around their still shivering friend. They helped him to put his boots back on, an uncomfortable procedure for the shivering man.

'We need to get him back,' said Aramis.

Porthos nodded as he started to ease Athos up to stand, taking most of his weight. As he stood, he realised just how cold he was himself.

'Porthos?' said d'Artagnan. 'Why didn't you say?'

Aramis grabbed Athos from the second shivering Musketeer. Porthos accepted his doublet back from d'Artagnan who pulled his own back on at the same time.

Porthos shook his head contritely, 'I didn't realise I'd got quite so wet pulling him out of the river.'

'Let's get you lads back then,' said the man in the cart.

Aramis turned to his friend, 'this is Morel,' he said nodding toward the man.

Morel led them to the back of his cart and nodded for them to help Athos up. Porthos jumped up onto the back of the cart and helped Athos up. Athos was still shivering, almost uncontrollably. He still did not look focused but was just about able to move himself around.

Aramis was about to jump up as well but stopped, 'the horses,' he said.

They looked at each other for a second as the realisation that their horses were still where the fight had taken place.

Porthos pushed himself back up to stand, 'I'll go.'

'You will not,' said Aramis forcefully, 'you're soaked. You need warming up as well. If I'd realised, you'd been in the river I would have sent you for help to keep you moving.'

Porthos could not help looking a little contrite for not telling his brother he had been in the cold river. Aramis had not been there for the actual rescue so had not seen him wade out into the river to grab Athos who, at that moment, could not help himself.

D'Artagnan was looking at Aramis, 'and you're not going either.'

Aramis looked a little annoyed.

Morel laughed, 'I think your young friend is right son, he's noticed you favouring your left arm.'

Porthos almost laughed when he noticed Aramis' look of embarrassment as if he had been found out for doing something he should not have been.

'Be careful,' said Porthos as d'Artagnan looked back the way they had come.

'I will, it's not really that far. It should only take an hour or two to walk back and round them up. They won't have moved far.'

Porthos nodded. D'Artagnan smiled and nodded back before walking off briskly, following the river bank back the way they had come.

MMMM

D'Artagnan hurried back along the river bank. He knew that once he reached the bridge and had rounded up the horses he could return to the village along the road, it was not a direct route but would be favoured by the horses, rather than forcing them to pick their way amongst the trees and exposed roots.

Athos had still been obviously suffering when they had helped him onto the cart, but d'Artagnan was sure once the man had warmed up and rested, he would be fine. They would be able to continue their journey back to Paris the following morning.

He was annoyed with himself for not remembering that Porthos had been in the river as well. Aramis was correct that it would have made more sense for Porthos to go for help, to keep him moving. But the Musketeer had not seemed in as bad shape as Athos. Changing into dry clothes would probably be enough to see him recovered.

Aramis was only bruised from his fall and no doubt fatigued from the extra running he had done, rest was all the marksman needed for his recovery.

The sky was darkening as he walked, d'Artagnan was glad the village was as close as it was to the place, they had pulled Athos out of the river. He did not like the prospect of staying out all night in the open. The night would probably be chilly, Athos would have suffered considerably. They had been lucky in that respect.

Unlucky to have been attacked in the first place though, thought d'Artagnan. The bandits that picked on them must have been desperate to try their luck on soldiers. The men had paid for their desperation though.

He continued along the river but kept getting the uneasy impression he was not alone. He looked around several times, but in the diminishing light, he was struggling to see very far into the wooded area that lined the river.

D'Artagnan kept his hand on the butt of his gun as he walked, realising the feeling of unease had increased. Perhaps one of the others had followed him?

He dismissed the thought, neither Porthos or Aramis would have followed so soon. He had not been walking long enough for the others to have got to the village with Athos, got him settled and to start out again after him.

D'Artagnan was sure he was not alone. He looked around again, wondering who was following him.

MMMM

'I'm sorry,' said Athos quietly, the shivering making his voice shake a little.

'What for?' said Aramis as he reached up with his left hand to steady Athos as he got off the cart.

Porthos, who was shaking quite a bit himself, snaked his arm around Athos waist and followed Aramis and Morel towards the tavern.

'Causing you all problems.'

'You didn't fall off the bridge deliberately,' pointed out Porthos.

Athos managed a tired smile, 'I suppose you are right…'

'Yes, he is,' agreed Aramis as he stepped into the tavern.

Aramis was pleased to see the fire in the tavern had been built up considerably. Florence was waiting for them with a blanket in her arms. She smiled at them warmly.

'Get his wet clothes off,' she said, before adding, 'I have a grown-up son, so don't you go being bashful towards me.'

She winked at Athos before handing the blanket to Porthos. She looked Porthos up and down, noting his wet clothes. She sighed.

'I'll get another blanket,' she said, rolling her eyes.

Joubert walked into the room carrying a bundle of clothes.

'These were our sons, he won't mind you taking them. You need to get dry as quickly as possible.'

'You are very generous,' said Porthos with a smile, taking the clothes and beginning to sort through what they would need.

'Aramis did us a favour, and we are more than happy to repay it.'

Aramis nodded his thanks as he helped Athos to pull his boots off. Porthos handed him a pair of breeches and a shirt. After relieving him of Morel's doublet, with a little difficulty, Aramis helped Athos to dress in the dry clothes.

Athos was struggling to keep his eyes open by the time he had the blanket around his shoulders and had leaned back in the chair by the fire.

'Sleep Athos, you will feel better for it.'

Athos managed a nod before closing his eyes.

Florence collected Athos and Porthos' damp clothes and took them off to get them dry in the kitchen.

'All we need now,' said Aramis, 'is d'Artagnan to get back with the horses.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan spun around pulling his gun at the same time, he fired at the man who was running towards him. The action of spinning had left d'Artagnan off balance, teamed with the fading light he was not surprised that he missed his mark. The man tried to run him through with the sword in one swift movement.

Momentarily using his gun as a sword, he parried the attack, knocking the man's arm to the side. He flipped the gun and went to hit the man with the butt. Before he could bring the weapon down, he was shoved hard by a second man that had appeared from nowhere.

D'Artagnan stumbled several paces, dropping his gun in the process. He drew his sword as he regained his balance and turned back to the two men. Now that he had a second to look them over he realised it was the two bandits from earlier in the day that had run away. He vaguely recalled Aramis taking a few steps after them, but they had been too focused on rescuing Athos to care where the men had run to.

D'Artagnan stepped forward bringing his sword across to swipe at the men. They dodged out of the way. The first man aimed another thrust, again d'Artagnan easily parried the attempt to harm him, this time with his sword. As the two men fought, d'Artagnan tried to keep an eye on the second man who had stepped aside. D'Artagnan tried to finish off the first man but was constantly being distracted by the second man getting close enough to need fending off.

Inevitably, with the fatigue of the earlier fight, the running after Athos and the second, long walk, through the uneven area, d'Artagnan made a mistake. The second man managed to get close enough to trip him backwards. D'Artagnan stumbled a few steps trying to keep himself on his feet, but his ankle turned on the uneven ground. He yelped in pain as he fell, hitting the ground hard.

As he tried to push himself back up he found himself staring at the deadly end of a gun. The smirking bandit holding it, glanced at his friend, before taking a step forward.

'Drop the sword,' he said.

D'Artagnan looked between the two men but did not move.

'If you do as we say, we won't need to 'urt you,' said the other man with a toothless grin.

D'Artagnan dropped his sword. He knew he had little choice but to comply with their demand. If they had wanted to kill him, they could have done so before they engaged him in a fight. They could easily have shot him as he walked. He was sure they were too far from the village for the noise of the shot to be heard.

'Take off your belt, throw it over there,' said the man with the gun.

D'Artagnan complied. His ankle was throbbing, he knew he would not be able to run even if he had the opportunity.

'Now the doublet.'

D'Artagnan stared at the men for a few seconds. He wondered how far they would want him to go. A little worried about what the men really wanted from him, he slowly unbuckled his doublet and shrugged out of it. He balled the jacket up and threw it toward the second man who grabbed it and held it up appreciatively.

'Boots…'

Again, d'Artagnan did as he was told. He struggled to pull the boot off his left foot, screwing his eyes shut as the pain radiated out from his injured ankle.

'Hurry up,' said the man with the gun.

With a gasp, d'Artagnan managed to pull the boot off. The second man grabbed them and took a few steps back.

'Thanks,' said the man with the gun. 'Have a pleasant evening.'

The men both laughed as they backed away. All d'Artagnan could do was watch them go.

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

'Why is Aramis staring out of the window?' asked Athos quietly.

Porthos looked around to find a sleepy looking Athos watching Aramis who was stood by the only unshuttered window in the tavern. It was nearly dark outside, and the evening had turned quite cold in the previous couple of hours.

Porthos was not sure how Athos would react when they told him the d'Artagnan had not returned with the horses. They had become increasingly worried about their friend as the hours ticked by. Aramis had paced up and down a bit before stopping by the window and standing a lonely watch out into the increasing darkness.

They had enjoyed the tavern keeper's hospitality whilst they waited for d'Artagnan to return. Florence had brought them stew and a broth for Athos when he had woken a couple of hours before. Athos had stopped shaking but was still feeling the effects of his misadventure in the river. Their own clothes had dried quickly in the warm kitchen and although they were wearing borrowed boots both Athos and Porthos had been able to put their own breeches and doublets back on.

'Where is d'Artagnan?' Athos asked.

Porthos looked back to his friend. Athos had leaned forward in the chair, allowing the blanket to slip from his shoulders as he looked around the room.

'He's not back yet,' said Aramis without turning from the window. 'I think it's time we searched for him. I don't like it. Something's happened.'

Porthos had been feeling the same way for a few minutes. The young Musketeer should not have taken more than a couple of hours to get back to the spot where the horses would be and to return with them. If he could not find all four, he would have returned with the ones he could find. He would not deliberately have stayed away, knowing that they would be worried about him. The night was cold, he could not stay out as he was. If he had not got back to the horses, he would not even have his cloak. His doublet would keep him warm to a certain extent but not enough for the current temperature.

'If you are going to search,' said Athos. 'I am coming with you.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan shivered, he leaned on the tree with his eyes screwed shut, trying to control his breathing. He had tried to put weight on his left foot again and was now paying the price.

He had managed to hop, crawl and scramble about one hundred yards from the place he was attacked. He was fairly sure he was heading in the direction of the village. He was also fairly sure he was not going to make it there quickly.

It was no use, he was in far too much pain to go on. He slowly sat down and twisted around to lean on the tree. He looked at his feet and ankles. His left ankle was swollen where he had turned it. He was sure it was not broken. Both his feet were covered in cuts and grazes from his pitiful attempts to walk.

He wrapped his arms around himself. The shivering had started pretty quickly when the bandits had left.

D'Artagnan wondered if his brothers were looking for him? He knew they would look for him. But how long would it be before they started, and how long before they found him?

MMMM

'You can't come, Athos, you're not fit for going out there yet,' protested Aramis.

'I have warmed up considerably. I am coming with you,' said Athos firmly as he pushed himself up to stand.

He watched Aramis glance at Porthos. Athos glared at Porthos before the Musketeer could say anything.

'We'll need the help. Aramis, we'll need the help. Everyone's gone to bed, we can't ask any more of these people. For all we know we'll meet him as soon as we leave. Let him come with us.'

Athos watched Aramis trying to come up with a reason to stop him from joining the search for their missing brother.

'Alright, but you'll wear this,' he said picking up the cloak that Joubert had left for him.

The thick black cloak had been left neatly folded on a table in case Athos needed another layer or had to step out of the tavern during the night.

Athos nodded as Aramis picked up the cloak and swung it around his shoulders. He allowed Aramis to button the cloak fully. Aramis glared at him the entire time, making his feeling very clear. Athos maintained eye contact with his friend, allowing him to know that the matter was settled regardless of what the field medic felt.

Once Aramis was satisfied that Athos was as warm as he could be, he stepped back and looked across at Porthos who was already by the door.

'We'll start by heading back to where we dragged Athos out of the river,' said Porthos, 'and follow the route he would have taken. If we walk within the sound of a gunshot we can split up.'

Athos nodded his agreement to the plan. Aramis scowled at him again but nodded as well.

Porthos pulled the door open. They walked out into the cold dark night. Each man hoping nothing untoward had happened to their friend.

MMMM

Porthos glanced to his right, he could not see Athos any more. Aramis had disappeared from sight a few minutes before. The three of them were working their way through the wooded area along the side of the river. Porthos was closest to the river, Aramis furthest away with Athos between them. Athos had not argued with Aramis when he had told, not asked, told, the recovering man that he would have to be in the middle of their search pattern.

They had decided that they would search the area up to the area of the attack. If they had not found d'Artagnan, they would have to return to the tavern, wait until first light and hope the villagers would help them with a proper search the next day.

The moon was full giving them enough light to see well enough to spot their missing brother if he was collapsed somewhere.

Porthos hoped they would not find d'Artagnan in any other state than healthy. But the longer he was missing the more chance there was that he was not well. Something must have happened to him.

The worry weighing heavy in his mind, Porthos continued to move silently a few yards from the edge of the river. The river itself was not too noisy, which Porthos was pleased about.

His attention was drawn to a glint of light. An unnatural glint. The moonlight was being reflected off steel.

Porthos was tempted to rush forward, but some inner sense told him not to. He moved silently, carefully. As he closed the gap between himself and the sword, he realised the weapon belonged to d'Artagnan. But d'Artagnan was not with the weapon.

Two men were sat with their backs to him. They were talking quietly. Porthos took in the scene. One of the men was wearing d'Artagnan's doublet. The missing man's boots were lying in front of the men, his weapons belt in a tangle a couple of yards away. There was no sign of d'Artagnan.

'The sword will be worth something,' said one of the men.

'Shame 'is boots was too small,' said the other.

The first man chuckled, 'you shouldn't have such big feet then.'

Porthos pulled his main gauche slowly from his belt. He knew he would have to be quick, he knew he would have to neutralise the men as fast as he could.

With lightning speed, he punched the man wearing d'Artagnan's doublet in the back of the head, sending the man toppling to the ground. The second man had barely reacted when Porthos pushed his dagger into his throat.

The man made a gurgling sound, his hands went to his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Porthos pulled the blade from the man and shoved him aside before grabbing the second man who was trying to pull himself up, the punch to the back of the head having left him stunned.

Porthos pushed the man over onto his back, quickly straddling the man pinning him down. The bloody blade was pressed against the second man's neck.

'Where is he?'

The man stared at him, fear in his eyes. Alone, the weedy man knew he was no match for a Musketeer.

'We left him by the river…'

Porthos stared at the man.

'Did you kill him?'

Porthos pressed the blade against the skin. The terrified man's eyes widened further. He shook his head slightly.

'He was injured…'urt 'is leg...bit further along the river. He was alive when we left 'im.'

Porthos looked along the river. Satisfied that he was not going to get anything further from the bandit he twisted the knife out of the way, pulled back his arm and punched the man.

The now unconscious man did not protest as Porthos divested him of the stolen jacket.

A gunshot to his left was a sound that he both welcomed and dreaded at the same time.

MMMM

Aramis had searched thoroughly, checking each hollow in the ground, scouting between exposed roots and pushing apart thick undergrowth.

He was concerned. It was cold, if d'Artagnan had been injured and was lying out in the open, exposed to the elements, he would suffer. They needed to find him.

Aramis tried not to consider the prospect that they could already be too late. If whatever had happened to d'Artagnan happened soon after they parted the Musketeer could have been suffering for several hours already.

A soft snort and the unmistakable sound of a hoof pawing at the ground had Aramis increase his pace for a few seconds. Sure enough, his mare had sensed his approach. She and the other three horses were stood close together.

The mare stepped forward and nuzzled at Aramis' outstretched hand.

'Good girl,' said Aramis softly.

He wandered between the four horses, briefly checking them for any injuries. All their gear was still where it was supposed to be.

He took the reins of his horse and started to lead her back the way he had come. The other horses followed their stablemate.

The horses whinnied slightly when a gunshot rang out across the darkening evening.

MMMM

Before Aramis had continued on towards his own search area, he had paused for a few seconds eyeing Athos carefully.

'I will be fine. I am too concerned with d'Artagnan's whereabouts to collapse. I am not about to add to our problems again.'

Aramis had nodded once before continuing on. Athos watching him go. The Musketeer was still favouring his left arm, his right unconsciously wrapped around his chest. Having three slightly unfit men searching for a missing forth really was not ideal. But they would do it, nonetheless.

He started his own search. The full moon was certainly helpful, the darkening sky would have left them unable to search otherwise.

Despite his reassurances to Aramis and Porthos he did still feel cold. The cloak was a necessity. He pulled it closer around himself. He had been relieved when Florence had appeared before she retired to bed with their dried-out clothes. Slipping back into his own breeches and doublet had been welcome. The fabric of the borrowed clothes had made him feel exposed. The leather was a comforting feeling and, now that it was dry would offer him more warmth than the borrowed breeches would have.

Walking slowly and looking around carefully he tried to spot any signs that d'Artagnan might have been past. He did not like the thought of the young man being outside on his own as the temperature dropped.

'Athos…'

His name was spoken quietly.

He looked across and saw his brother slumped against a tree. D'Artagnan was shaking and looked pale in the diminishing light. He was not wearing his doublet and his boots were missing.

'Two men...attacked...sorry,' d'Artagnan managed to stutter as Athos crouched in front of him looking for any obvious injury.

'Do not apologies,' Athos said. 'Are you injured?'

'Ankle...they managed to push me over, I...landed awkwardly.'

Athos gently felt d'Artagnan's left ankle causing the Musketeer to hiss in pain.

'Sorry,' said Athos as he unbuttoned his cloak.

He pulled his gun from his belt, checked it was primed and ready to fire. He was grateful to Porthos, who had spent the time to carefully dry the weapon when he was sleeping in front of the tavern fire.

Athos aimed the gun skywards and pulled the trigger. D'Artagnan jumped slightly at the noise.

He holstered the gun and sat next to his injured brother, wrapping the cloak around them both, pulling d'Artagnan closer as he did so. D'Artagnan did not try to resist the move. Athos could not help a chuckle.

'What?' asked d'Artagnan in between shivers.

'I am amused at the irony that I am now returning the favour that you and Porthos paid me earlier. Although you are not such an unwilling recipient.'

D'Artagnan managed a smile before replying, 'I've not just regained consciousness,' he said. 'You were confused earlier. We don't hold it against you.'

'Well thank you then.'

MMMM

Aramis led the horses towards the sound of the gunshot. He prayed that d'Artagnan was alive and well.

The sight the greeted him made him smile. Athos was sat on the ground with a very cold looking d'Artagnan wrapped in his arms. The borrowed cloak slung around them both.

Athos looked up at him as he approached.

'I look forward to the teasing I shall receive,' he said.

D'Artagnan, who had been looking off into the distance managed to focus on Aramis.

'It's only...my ankle,' he said.

'And the fact that you are freezing,' said Aramis as he started to unwind the sash from his waist.

As he strapped up the injured man's ankle he looked up at Athos.

'I doubt you're really doing any good, you can't be much warmer than him.'

'It's the thought,' said d'Artagnan.

Aramis nodded, 'bit of an extreme way to get someone to pay you back though.'

Porthos appeared from the opposite direction, he was clutching d'Artagnan's doublet and boots, he could not help a grin.

'Thought you might want these back.'

MMMM

D'Artagnan allowed Aramis to fuss about him. He watched as the field medic properly strapped his ankle before gently resting the injured limb on a stool. Porthos pushed a warm drink into his hands. Athos had been ordered to sit, equally wrapped up, on the seat opposite him.

The journey back to the tavern had been uneventful, other than getting them all mounted up. Athos had managed to get himself on his horse without issues, but d'Artagnan knew he would need help.

Porthos had helped him up onto the back of his horse with the intention of riding behind him due to the struggle d'Artagnan was having to stay awake. Porthos was about to mount up when Athos coughed to draw his attention.

They had both looked around to find Aramis still stood next to his horse looking at the saddle. The medic had turned to them and without making eye contact asked a laughing Porthos if he could help him to mount up as well. The earlier fall Aramis had suffered finally forcing him to accept that he was not quite as fine as he had been making out.

The incident had lightened the mood for the rest of them, even if it left Aramis slightly embarrassed.

After they had settled themselves around the room d'Artagnan had managed to explain what had happened. Porthos had then regaled them with his eventful search. D'Artagnan had no sympathy for the men. They wondered if the man Porthos had knocked out was still lying where he had been left or if he had regained consciousness and left. They decided they would check when they left in the morning. Porthos was not sure he would be able to find the spot in the dark. There was still the other man's body to deal with.

Athos was staring at the fire, he looked pensive. Aramis and Porthos had pulled chairs up to sit with them both.

D'Artagnan asked, 'are you alright?'

Athos looked back at them all for a few seconds before responding.

'I just wanted to apologise for being...combative...earlier, I know I was confused,' he said before Porthos could say anything, 'but I would still like to apologise. And to thank you all for what you did.'

Aramis said, 'I think between the four of us, we've managed to assist each other in some way or other today, so there isn't really a need to thank anyone. We're all even again.'

D'Artagnan thought for a moment realising that Aramis was correct. They had all helped each other.

'Exactly as it should be,' said Porthos, as the others nodded their agreement.

The End.


End file.
